


With Friends Like These ...

by raiining



Category: Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol (2011), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Abuse of comic-based storylines, Clint and Natasha are B.F.F., Crossover, Fix-It, Gen, IMF and S.H.I.E.L.D. save the world, M/M, No one wants Tony Stark doing counter-espionage, Spoilers for both movies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-22
Updated: 2012-09-13
Packaged: 2017-11-10 11:57:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/466008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiining/pseuds/raiining
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"S.H.I.E.L.D. - ?"</p><p>Phil shakes his head.  "There's no one I would trust with this kind of operation.  We're the 'law-enforcement division' - stakeouts and armed response and apparently alien invasions, yes.  But counter espionage isn't a part of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s mandate.  We aren't good at it."</p><p>"Then we'll have to find someone who is."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I finally watched MI: Ghost Protocol and OMG I _loved it_. I thought Jeremy Renner did a _fantastic_ job as William Brandt. But I'm not even halfway through the movie and I'm thinking "Damn, I bet Clint would give anything to have Phil in his ear right now".
> 
> And then my brain decided we needed to have Phil directing an op with Clint, Ethan, Benji and Jane and THEN it made plot. A bit more plot than I had been expecting, but we're at 10,000 words and counting, so ....
> 
> The story is pretty much done, but I haven't gotten the number of chapters fixed yet because I've learned not to do that the hard way. 
> 
>  
> 
> Huge loud THANK YOU to Jedi Buttercup for her fabulous Editing of Awesomeness for the first seven chapters. I bow to your grammar powers.
> 
> And another MASSIVE THANK YOU to the_wordbutler for her fabulous beta-work on the on-going chapters. All Hail the Red Pen!

Clint stares at Phil across his handler's desk, his stomach sinking. "They're dividing it into three drops?"

Phil sighs and nods. He taps a file on his desk. "Yes. Natasha managed to move up. She knows the locations but the timing is unchanged. Her original drop is only one of three."

Clint rubs a hand over his head and leans back in his chair. "Fuck." He looks up at his handler. "We can't do it. Unless Stark can invent a machine in the next thirty hours to let me be in three places at once, this isn't going to work."

Phil hesitates. His gaze flickers up to Clint and back down to the file. "I could - "

"No!" Clint stabs a finger at his handler. "There is absolutely no way in hell Fury has cleared you for the field. You shouldn't even be coordinating the op, don't think I don't know how you bribed Dr. Foster in medical."

Phil frowns. "I didn't - "

Clint shakes his head. It's the truth, but it hurts like hell to have to say it. “You'd be a liability in the field."

Coulson sighs like he does when he knows Clint is right. "I know.  But then - "

"S.H.I.E.L.D. - ?"

Phil shakes his head.  "There's no one I would trust with this kind of operation.  We're the 'law-enforcement division' - stakeouts and armed response and apparently alien invasions, yes.  But counter espionage isn't a part of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s mandate.  We aren't good at it."

"Then we'll have to find someone who is."

 

 

It's been sixteen months since their third and last operation together, but Clint still has the phone.  He texts the group while Phil calls the secretary of the IMF.

They luck out - the team is currently on standby in New York.  

"It's hardly luck, Barton." Phil sips his coffee from their arranged meet on Upper 49th street an hour later.  "Every world office has been re-evaluating their counter-insurgency response in the wake of the Chitauri invasion."

Clint frowns into his latte.  "Just because there are aliens now doesn't mean there isn't still local espionage activity."

Phil's upper lip quirks, which is the equivalent of a shit-eating grin on anyone else.  Clint feels a sharp stab of relief, only his forty-second this week, that Coulson is alive and well enough to quirk at him.

"True," Phil agrees. "But you just referred to American-Russian relations as 'local'.  Our basic understanding of the universe has shifted."

Clint shrugs one shoulder, agreeing with Phil's point, but warning his handler that Ethan has appeared at his eight o'clock.

"Doesn't mean the C.I.A, the F.B.I, the I.M.F and every other acronym on the planet - including S.H.I.E.L.D. - won't have other work to do."

Phil nods, putting down his coffee.  "I agree with you, and I think the other agencies will too, but it will take time.  Good morning, Mr. Hunt." Phil doesn't bother to turn around.  "We've ordered you a latte."

Clint turns slightly in his seat to meet the eyes of his sometimes boss.  The waitress steps forward at that moment with a coffee and smiles at Ethan before setting it down at one of the three empty chairs at their table.  It's cream, no-sugar, just the way he likes it.  A little piece of proof that Clint is still who he thinks he is, if he isn't only that any more.

Ethan doesn't sit down though, and he doesn't touch the coffee.  He looks at Clint.

"Thank you," he says to Phil without looking away.  His stance is patient.  Clint knows what he wants, and he knows how stubborn he can be.  He can also see the half-disguised ear bud in his left ear and knows the rest of the team is listening.  

Fuck.  He had hoped it wouldn't come down to this.

But rules are rules.

"Ethan," Clint says, indicating his handler, knowing he's going to regret this later.  Possibly immediately.  

"This is Phil."

Phil's eyebrows twitch at that, it clearly wasn't what he was expecting Clint to say.  But Phil doesn't know the rules of this particular game, and he isn't aware of how Clint has broken them.

Ethan's face smiles.  The grin is shit-eating, but his eyes are honestly twinkling.  Clint feels his stomach sink.

"THIS is Phil?"

Clint gives in to the urge and rubs his hand across his face.  It's something Brandt would do, and it's what _Clint's_  always wanted to do when faced with this man.  "This is Phil."

"Well," Ethan reaches over to shake Phil's hand, magnanimously sitting down in front of his latte.  "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Phil gives Clint one of his micro-glares, a twitching of the eyes, and turns to smile non-threateningly at Ethan.  "Mr. Hunt.  It's a genuine honour."

Clint really wants to bang his head against the table, but the rest of the team is walking towards them now, fingers reaching up to shut off their ear-mics.  Jane sits down with a smile for Clint and a thoughtful glance for Coulson and Benji is trying to play it cool but his verbal diarrhea starts the moment he sits down at the table.

"Look at this!  Together again, eh?  Just likes old times.  Only, it's not like old times because - hey! Hawkeye! Sorry," he lowers his voice at Phil's flicker of an expression.  Ethan just rolls his eyes and slaps him gently on the back of the head.  

Benji cringes.  "I'm sorry!  I'm sorry.  It's just - wow.  I mean, I watched the news reel, we all watched the news reel, and then I tried to go in the server to get more information and - " he perks up and looks at Phil.  "Can I just say that I was impressed?  I mean, really impressed with the firewall.  It took me five attempts to get around it -" he puts his hands up at Phil's pained expression, "- I didn't _do_ anything, just looked around a little.  Someone called Jarvis called me on my cell and asked me politely to stop, which was really interesting and also a little scary because then _Tony Stark_  called and offered me a job and I -" he turns to Ethan when the man blinks, "I _told_  him I was already employed and thanks but no thanks and then he wanted to know about the IMF - " he rolls his eyes at Clint when he winces, " - I didn't _tell_  him anything, but," he trails off.  "I think he might have gone into the server after me anyway.  Sorry?"

Clint sighs.  "So that's why Tony's been smiling whenever I walk into the breakfast room.  I bet he's waiting for the opportune moment to bring up Paris."

Phil's lips twitch.  "No bet."

Jane shakes her head.  "You really _are_ Clint Barton."  She looks at him, and her expression shifts from wonder into something a little sad.  "I didn't want to believe it."

Clint bites at his upper lip.  He had always liked Jane.  "I'm sorry."

"How long?"

"Three years?" Clint shrugs, "On and off."  He turns to Ethan.  "That really was my file you looked up, I did those ops and I _have_ worked as an analyst.  It just ... isn't all I've done."

Ethan looks at him.  His gaze holds weight, but no judgment.  "Croatia?"

Clint nods, slowly.  "That was me.  I - you -," he flushes a little, catching Phil's worried micro-expression.  He isn't usually this flustered.  He can practically see his handler mentally scanning Clint's file as William Brandt and recognizes the moment Phil remembers Croatia.  Clint lets his eyes fall closed.  Too much to hope that Phil won't put the carefully worded pieces of that file together and connect it to the man sitting in front of them.  The op had been under a previous handler, and Clint had lied to psych about the majority of the aftermath.  Phil knew what his lying to psych looked like, though, and he had never told his handler what really happened.

But Ethan deserved the truth.

"The assets were important.  IMF asked for backup and I was sent in, under the Brandt identity.  I still - that was still me."   _Who failed_ , he didn't add.  But he didn't have to.  Ethan knew what he believed for two years, and he knew that finding out the thing had been a set up, that his wife was still alive, diminished the responsibility but not the guilt.  If Ethan hadn't been ahead of the game, Clint would have been responsible for her death.

More red in his ledger.  

He has a sharp mental flash of his hands at the controls of the quinjet, piloting it towards the heli-carrier.

He breathes out.  Then taps Phil's foot to reassure him he's okay.

Clint turns back to his former team.  "The Avengers Initiative has been in the works for a few years now.  I've done a lot of work on the side.  But now the game's changed.  There are only two of us trained in infiltration activity.  S.H.I.E.L.D.'s more of an enforcement division, and I don't have to tell you Tony Stark is the last person anyone would want running counter-espionage."

The table winces.  Ethan looks over at Phil.  "So what do you need us to do?"  He put up a hand.  "Not that we have accepted the mission, but the Secretary called me this morning to make sure I would come to this meeting.  I suspect whatever it is you're handling, the IMF wants in on it."

Phil nods.  "I'm not surprised.  IMF has been running actions against this particular terrorist organization for years, but S.H.I.E.L.D. has been keeping tight reins on most of the information.  IMF simply didn't have the security clearance to deal with alien-tech before."  Phil shrugs.  "New York has changed that."

Benji snorts.  "Yeah, blew that little secret right out in the open, didn't it?"

Phil sighs.  "Yes.  I wouldn't be surprised if your Secretary calls our Director and requests permission to increase IMF activity against this particular organization.  And to be fair, IMF does possess a useful skill set that could come in handy during particular operations."

Ethan nods, "Like this one."

"Like this one," Phil agrees.  He stands up from the table.  "I understand this isn't usually the way you do things, but if you'll agree to drive with me to the airport, I can explain things on the way.  You will still have every opportunity to refuse, but," he glances at Clint, "we are a little pressed for time."


	2. Chapter 2

Phil hands out the files in the van.  Clint sees Benji look disbelieving at the paper, but he knows most of what S.H.I.E.L.D. does is kept track of on paper, far away from any server.  Clint drives since he has heard all this before, while Phil sits with Ethan, Jane and Benji in the back.  

"Three weeks ago, immediately after the Chitauri attack on New York, S.H.I.E.L.D. learned a terrorist organization with previous experience with alien tech had managed to secure several Chitauri weapons from the destruction site.  They immediately began working on reverse-engineering, at which they have so far been slightly more successful than we have, thanks to the assistance of several known individuals.  Five days ago S.H.I.E.L.D. managed to get one of our top agents into the organization.  We have attempted several previous infiltrations, never with lasting success.  Our average is two months.

Agent Romanov had learned there was to be a weapons drop in a target city in," Phil checks his watch, which is mostly for show, "twenty eight and a half hours.  Agent Barton was to secure and double the receiving terrorist and switch the alien-doped tech for functional but non-extraterrestrial weapons.  Previous experience with this particular organization has indicated that upon receipt of the weapons, instructions would likely be forthcoming about the pending target.  In the past, weapons drops have led directly to terrorist activity.  We had intended Agent Barton to follow the instructions and alert S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel when he had the place and time of the terrorist strike.  S.H.I.E.L.D. would then arrive, secure the weapons and defend the target.  

Unfortunately, Agent Romanov learned this morning that the drop she had previously been informed of is only one of three scheduled for tomorrow night.  The other two locations are to receive weapons shipments at the same time but separate locations in the target city."  Phil shakes his head, "As stated S.H.I.E.L.D. does not have the resources or the experience to double three such operations.  We could arrive at the drop locations and arrest the individuals involved, but unless the exchange is completed neither Agent Barton nor Agent Romanov would be able to learn the location of the terrorist strike."  Phil looks at Clint's former team.  "That's where you come in."

Ethan looks up from the file in his hands, his face serious.  "What do you need us to do?"    
   
It's as much a statement as a question.  Clint looks in the review mirror and catches Phil's expression.  He smiles and turns back to the road.  

Phil looks at Ethan and Benji.  "We need the two of you to double the other receivers and secure the weapon exchange.  We need to supplement the alien tech for the non-enhanced weaponry and remain active for the target upload.  Agent Carter," he looks at Jane, "will have the trickier job.  We don't know the target of the terrorist strike, but there are several options.  We would like you to remain active and in the field, with instructions to blend into whatever situation develops and give aid to your teammates."  Phil spread his hands.  "I wish I had more information to send you in with, but that's all we have."

"Which is another reason why we didn't want to send in Thor," Clint calls back from the driver's seat.  "He doesn't do so well on improvisation."

"And the Hulk," Phil agrees dryly, "tends to smash.  It's a tricky operation, and we need the best."  He looks back at the team.  "Clint has assured me that's you."

Ethan nods.  "That's us."

 

Clint drives them to a private airport where a jet funded by S.H.I.E.L.D. flies them to the target location.  Only when they are in the air does Phil hand out the second set of folders.

"Our destination is Rome, Italy.  The terrorist organization of interest is -"

"Oh _shit_ ," Benji moans.  "HYDRA."

"What-ra?" Ethan asks.

"HYDRA." Benji stares at him.  "Come on, tell me you've read Captain America."

Ethan scrunches up his nose, "I don't like comic books."

Phil raises his eyes to meet Clint's gaze and does that micro-expression where he is asking _You want me to trust this guy with your life? Really?_

Clint grins.

"HYDRA," Benji is slumping forward in his seat.  "No wonder the Secretary wants us in on this.  Do you know how long she's been trying to find out more information about this," he turns to Phil, "'terrorist organization' sounds so trite, but I guess it's true.  Multi-celled massively tangled incredibly well-funded terrorist organization, I would say but yes - I suppose it could be shorted."

Ethan rolls his eyes.  "Just give me the basics, Benji."

It's Jane who answers, "HYDRA has been active since World War II.  They are the quasi-fascist extremist group suspected to be behind, either actively funding or recruiting or both, every known terrorist organization active in the world.  The difficulty in tracking them is that they are ruthlessly divided into separate cells, with lots of false information floating through the organization.  They are extremely paranoid, which is actually good policy as every agency is the world is literally out to get them."  She frowns at Phil, "You've had people last up to two months?  I think that's a record."

Phil shrugs, "S.H.I.E.L.D. has been their primary antagonist.  We have a little bit of a jump on the other agencies."

Ethan is sitting back in his seat, actively trying to remember.  "Wait, you mean we're going up against Enemy H?  That multi-level terrorist organization based out of Germany?  The Secretary," and the way he says the title, they all know he's talking about the original, "and I talked about them often.  I've never heard of them called HYDRA before.  Is that an acronym?"

Phil shakes his head.  "No, it's a creature out of legend, and has somehow become their catch phrase.   _Cut off one head and two more will take its place_."  He shrugs, "Trite, but unfortunately accurate."

"And these are the guys who froze Captain America?"  At Benji's expression he rolls his eyes.  "I might never have read the comics, but I know who he _is_."

Phil nods.  "They were working with alien tech at that time too, a tesseract that - " he trails off slightly at the closed expression on Clint's face.  " - that was partially responsible for the recent attack on New York."

"So this HYDRA was involved in that, too?"

Phil starts to shake his head, but Clint stops him by saying.  "Peripherally."

Phil looks at him.  Clint grimaces.  

"I was there, remember?  Loki wanted enemies of S.H.I.E.L.D.  I gave them to him.  And no - " he turns to Ethan, his face tight and closed off.  "this doesn't count against my score."

Ethan's expression is calm, but there are questions in his eyes.  "I think it does."

Clint glares at him half-heartedly, "I've already played my trump card.  I don't have much else that won't count against me in the end."

Ethan pretends to think about it for a moment.  "You could tell us something innocuous then.  Such as what breakfast cereal the Mighty Thor prefers?"

Clint actually laughs, surprised. "You're going to sell this to America Today and make millions, don't think I don't know you will."

Ethan's eyes crinkle.  "Well, now that I know they're buying ..."

Clint shakes his head, but he's still smiling.  "Cocoa Puffs.  And Lucky Charms, but he likes Cocoa Puffs better.  I haven't convinced him to try French Toast Cereal, though."

Ethan smiles and his eyes are kind.  "Noted."


	3. Chapter 3

They arrive in Rome six hours later, which gives them just over a day to the exchange.  They nap on the plane and exit individually, heading to their meet locations to scope out the area at the suspected time of the drop.  

Clint's taking the original location because Nat will be his contact and she doesn't know the others.  He's told her about them, even explained the rules of Ethan's game, but she hadn't gotten it.

"I don't understand," she had said, scrunching up her nose while pinning his knees to the mat.  Clint had tried a counter-move and ended up wrenching his hip.  "It seems like a strange way to keep score."

"It's not about keeping score," he had told her, gasping and tapping out.  "It's about staying even."

"You've already lost then," she had said, somehow making it a question while she let him off the mat.

Clint had sighed and limped to his water bottle.  "Yeah, but it's still fun to play."

Clint's taking the Campo dei Fiori and is glad for the chance to visit the location at the approximate time of the drop the next day.  The market is huge, but Nat had given them the area of interest and Clint leaves with several good locations to get a drop on his double.  By the time he heads back to the hotel where Phil has checked them in dawn is creeping up the horizon and Clint is tired, his short nap on the plane hardly making up for a month of broken sleep.

Natasha had told him after the restaurant what Loki had done to Phil, and Fury had kept them in the dark for three days before gravely informing the team that Phil Coulson was more alive than previously thought.  Clint had been spending the night in Nat's room at the Tower, letting her keep the shadows at bay by crooning soft Russian lullabies she'd never heard as a child but learned for an op when she was eight.  

Fury let them visit, but Clint couldn't stay for more than a few minutes before the urge to run rose strong enough to take him out of the room and into the ceiling.   When medical was convinced Phil was strong enough to handle it, Rogers donated two pints of blood to see if that would wake Phil from his coma.  They'd tried everything else.  Clint couldn't stand being in the room but he had watched from a ventilation duct.  When Phil's eyes flickered open, Clint had met his gaze for a moment before having to run and throw up in a corner.

It's been three and a half weeks since then and Phil is trampling over every prediction medical has made about his recovery.  He likes to blame the donated blood in his system but Clint thinks most of it is Phil himself - he's watched the man heal before and knows how his handler hates to be out of the field.

Fury doesn't like it, though.  Clint knows he's one of the oldest friends Coulson has, and he doesn't like to see his top Agent pushing himself unnecessarily.  The two have had words on the subject, while Clint lurked above them in the ceiling.  But HYRDA has screwed with everyone's recovery plans.  Clint knows the only reason he's received clearance to work in the field is because he's the only one besides Natasha who has any idea what he's doing in a counter-espionage situation.  

When he gets to the hotel Phil is sitting at the cheap table with notes spread in front of him.  On the tv a rerun of SuperNanny is playing in dubbed Italian and Clint can see he's the first one back.  

"Trying to be open and approachable again, sir?" he asks, walking over to look at Coulson's notes.  

Phil doesn't look up.  "I find SuperNanny comforting."  
   
Clint snorts, "Since before or after Fury had you babysitting Stark?"  
   
Phil turns a page in the folder calmly but his eyes are smiling.  Clint notices that he's using his right hand, his left tucked carefully against his side like his shoulder is hurting.  "Oh before, Agent.  Well before.  About the time your file crossed my desk, I believe."  
   
Clint rolls his eyes and steps forward, hand coming out to close the file.  Phil doesn't stop him, which is all the justification Clint needs.  
   
"Okay, time for all good little handlers to be in bed.  It's dawn and Santa won't come if you don't sleep."  
   
Phil snorts but stands up from the table, stretching his neck carefully to avoid pulling at his left side.  "You sound like Natasha."  
   
Clint's ear perk at that, but it doesn't stop him from gently maneuvering Phil to the bed.  "Oh really?  She stop by?"  
   
Phil nods, and lets Clint help him take off the suit jacket.  "Yes.  She dropped off the physical parameters of your receivers and told me to get some sleep.  In a vaguely threatening way.  I think she cares."  
   
Clint has to bite his tongue to stop from saying something he'll regret, but he feels the flush of anger like a red tide in his chest.  
   
"Imagine that," he manages.  He thinks his tone is even.  
   
It's not enough, though, because Phil stops from where he is carefully turning to sit on the bed, straightens and turns around.    
   
He stares at Clint for a moment.  "Sorry," he says, his voice quiet.  "That was stupid."  
   
Clint nods at Phil's left ear and picks up his suit jacket.  "Yes," he says and his voice doesn't shake but it wants to.  "I'll go hang this up."  
   
"Clint - " Phil tries, once, but Clint shakes his head.  He's busy with the hotel hanger, he hates the anti-theft knub, wishes for a regular hanger, and doesn't turn around.  He can hear Coulson sigh and settle onto the bed, the shifting as he carefully gets under the covers.  Clint turns off the overhead light and the room is cast into pink shadow.  Dawn is creeping in through the window.    
   
"Sleep," he says, looking once to check if Phil is comfortable.  From the bed, his eyes already closed, Phil gives him a weary nod.     
   
Clint moves back to the window.  "I'll watch for the others."  
   
Phil sighs, a little, then relaxes with a kind of instinctual trust that makes something in Clint's heart stutter.  He doesn't deserve this, doesn't know how or when he got it, but it's his anyway and somehow, despite everything, he hasn't broken it yet.  Within moments Phil's breathing evens out and Clint knows he's asleep.  
   
Clint watches him for a moment, then turns and settles in at the crappy hotel table.  He keeps one eye on the window and the other on the door, busies himself by glancing over Phil's notes.  He tries to keep his mind from worrying, knows that if he starts it'll just run in circles and he'll get nothing done.  

He hadn't bothered trying to argue Coulson off the op, not since listening to Fury's words on the subject, which were much more eloquent and reasonable than his.  Mostly Clint just wants to wrap Phil in cotton and hide him away in Nat's room, but he knows a pipe dream when he's fantasizing about one.  

Phil is in this life, as much as he or Nat or even Fury is.  It's a part of him, and Clint can't - doesn't want to - separate him from that.  It makes him happy, and Clint knows that without Coulson he would be dead three times over, and Natasha twice.  The world may or may not have ended if Phil Coulson hadn't been there to stop it.  

But this work had already tried to kill him twice before Loki had a go at making the third time a charm, and Clint doesn't know how many more of these life-and-death situations he can take.  He doesn't know what would have happened to him, if Fury hadn't told them Phil was still alive.  He had been barely hanging on, and it had only been three days.  After a week, a month ... Clint's self-aware enough to know that the void Coulson had left in his life wasn't going to be filled without him.  Nat was his best friend, but he had already lost his brother and every mentor he had ever known.  He couldn't lose Phil too, not and remain whole.

But Clint also knows his sanity is not the issue here - he would do anything, give anything, to make Coulson happy.  So if what makes Phil happy makes Clint miserable, then that's a price he's willing to pay.

He had made this deal with himself three years ago, standing beside Phil's hospital bed, watching his handler breathe in and out and unable to shake the feeling that he would stop if Clint looked away.  But he had always promised himself he would be there every step of the way, guarding his back, keeping him from unnecessary danger.  And when it had come down to the wire ... Clint hadn't been there.

He's never going to be able to forgive himself for that.  

Thankfully, he doesn't have to.


	4. Chapter 4

Clint pores over the files Phil has organized.  Natasha has a little more information to pass along, not much, but some of the questions he had she's filled in.    
   
One by one the others straggle in.  Phil has rented them two rooms with a connecting door that he's left open, so as people knock softly and walk in Clint points them silently to the other room.  He waits until Jane, the last one back, makes it in and then picks up Phil's folder and follows her across into the other room.  
   
He closes the door but doesn't shut it completely, leaving it open a crack, to let their voices spill into the adjoining room.  He knows Phil will feel better when he wakes up if he knows where they are instantly.  Together they separate and crash for a few hours. Ethan and Benji share the bed, Jane takes the couch and Clint takes the first watch.  After a few hours he wakes Jane, who got the most sleep on the plane.  
   
"He okay?" Benji asks, nodding towards the connecting door where Phil is still asleep, once he's out of the shower and scrubbing at his wet hair.  Clint is on the bed with the folders spread out around him and Jane is waiting to take her place in the bathroom.  She pauses to listen to Clint's answer, though, and Ethan, sitting by the window, cocks his head as well.  
   
"He's recovering," Clint allows, handing Benji his physical parameters and passing the same to Ethan and Jane.  "He got stabbed in the chest a month ago."  
   
The others wince.  "How come he's standing then?" Benji asks, but he sounds more interested than disbelieving.  
   
"Steve Rogers owed him a favour," is what he says and then changes topic.  "Natasha - that's Agent Romanov - stopped by while we were out scouting earlier.  We've got the physical parameters and it looks like it shouldn't be too much of a stretch.  I did my walk about, and it looks okay.  What did you guys think?"  
   
"I've got the Via del Corso," Ethan says, and takes the folder Clint offers him.  He flips through the pages.  "Tricky but not impossible.  Jane?"  
   
Jane shakes her head.  "I sat with Agent Coulson after you boys took off.  He thinks one possible target might be a S.H.I.E.L.D. base near the Via del Bauino, so I cased the street.  Beautiful, and I bought a dress to blend in tonight, but there's no guarantee that's the target.  I did a quick drive by of your locations as well, so I at least know the area but ..." she shakes her head.  "He wasn't lying when he said this was going to be tricky."  
   
Ethan shoots her a quick smile.  "And I wasn't lying when I said we were the best.  Benji?"  
   
Benji nods, still toweling off his hair.  Jane slips behind him into the shower.  "Good, it's good.  I've got the Piazza Navona and now," he holds up his folder, "an updated location.  Should be okay.  I'm thinking of playing it Spanish this time."  
   
Ethan shakes his head at him, "So long as you can double your terrorist, you can play it however you like."  
   
When Jane's done with the shower Clint takes her place and then Ethan goes in.  Phil's brought standard HYDRA undersuits for each of them to wear and they put them on then cover them up with nondescript tourist clothing.  They'll be responsible for stripping their targets and adding whatever gear they have on to their undersuits.    
   
Jane makes a face at her bodysuit.  "Okay why is there extra padding in the chest?  I don't need extra padding, no one needs extra padding, these people are terrorists, not sex workers."  
   
Clint grins at her.  "Surely you, of all people, understand the importance of sex as a weapon?"  
   
Jane scrunched up her face.  "Men are pigs.  And don't call me Shirley."  
   
Benji laughs.    
   
An hour later and Phil begins to stir in the adjoining room.  Clint watches surreptitiously as he stretches carefully in bed, testing his shoulder and left side, and then stands and walks to the shower.  He's moving easier, and there's a pleased smile on his face.    
   
By the time their handler has washed and changed into a fresh suit, Benji has the tracking equipment running and has updated their individual isotope decay.  Phil looks over his shoulder at the individual displays and makes sure Clint's is correct.  Then he adds Natasha's by memory and immediately a fifth dot appears on the screen some distance away from their hotel, in one of HYDRA's several known locations in the city.  
   
Clint leans over and adds another set of numbers.  A sixth dot appears on the screen clustered with the group of four.  
   
"Don't look at me like that," Clint warns, not bothering to turn around.  "Remember Shanghai?"  
   
Phil rolls his eyes but doesn't argue.  Ethan just grins.  Together the team packs up the room and checks out of the hotel.  They wait in the Italian bakery van Phil has acquired for the mission while he checks them out of the hotel, then they drive to a random different hotel closer to the downtown core and Phil takes a room.  He comes back to the van to give them the room number.  
   
Clint drives as Phil takes the laptop from Benji.  "I'll coordinate the op from here.  If I say abort, you walk away.  We'll meet at this hotel room.  If, instead, all goes according to plan it could be days before we meet again."  
   
Phil hands them each a wad of cash, a mix of Euros and American and Canadian dollars.  "Your weapon-replacement teams are in position and I will coordinate with each of them.  But remember - our primary objective is the identification and location of HYDRA's terrorist target.  If the weapons switch will compromise that objective, keep the alien-tech.  We've given you what information we have on the devices, but aren't sure how much your targets will know about how the operation works.  Barton, Hunt and Dunn - you three are replacing grunt workers.  Keep your head down and try not to look too smart."  
   
Clint smirks and opens his mouth to make the requisite comment, but Phil gives him a hard look.  "I mean it.  Agent Carter," he looks to Jane, "enjoy your shopping expedition.  I will coordinate with you and Agent Romanov about the situation as it progresses."  
   
The other three nod and Clint waits until Coulson meets his gaze, then does the same.  One by one they exit the van as it slows at corners, and as they go each of them flick on their ear mics.  As Clint steps out at Via Regina he hears a low level hum that means Benji and Jane are on line, and a few minutes later he hears Ethan flick on his mic and say "Sound off, team."


	5. Chapter 5

Clint strolls casually towards the famous market place, vaguely following the route he outlined yesterday.  "Alleyway, on line," he says, in a quiet but normal speaking voice.  Sound travels farther as a whisper, and it's annoying as hell over the mic.  The amount of traffic around him is similar to what it was a few hours ago, and Clint settles into his skin, senses alert while he projects the picture of the excited but relaxed tourist.  
   
The rest of the team checks in. Their call signs are based on their drop locations - Ethan is 'Main Street', Benji is 'Statue' and Jane is 'Ace', because, she had informed them with a grin, she's their 'ace in the hole."  Clint had rolled his eyes, but privately he had been proud to see Jane smiling so easily.  During their last operation together she had still been quiet, even though the despair and desperation Clint had first seen in her seemed to have been burnt out by Sabine Moreau's death.  
   
When they finish sounding off there's another click on their line.  Nat's voice comes to him, quiet but not tinny, like she was standing behind him.  "Spider, On line."  
   
Coulson's voice acknowledges, "Spider.  Good of you to join us."  
   
Clint can hear the smile in her voice, and knows Phil can hear it too.  "All agents in position?"

Everyone gives the okay.  Clint strolls through the market place, stopping at a few stalls, looking but never buying.  He makes his way idly towards the far left side, glancing uninterestedly towards the alleyway beside the stall where he's planned to make the switch.  
   
The flash of movement in the alleyway catches his attention, but he is careful to keep his gaze unfocused while he looks over the stalls.  Clint wanders closer, then cases a darkened corner and leans back in the shadow of a stall to check his pockets as if looking for his wallet.  
   
His target is waiting where Clint has been told he would be.  Clint walks back around a stall and then takes two running jumps and freeclimbs up the side of a nearby building.  It's dark outside but the area is well lit.  He pauses on the roof, scanning his environment, and then sees the low dark shadow huddled behind a ledge on the next building over.  There's a faint glint from a sniper-rifle, and Clint locks his muscles.  But the rifle doesn't move to target him, and Clint breathes out slowly, knowing the man is focused on the alley.  
   
"It's me," he says quietly, "I have a sniper on a nearby roof, likely guarding my target.  Anyone else have eyes watching?"  
   
Ethan voice comes over the line, that quiet, controlled tone reminding Clint of old missions, and old failures.  He banishes the memory, but can't shake the feeling that it's odd to be here as Clint Barton instead of as William Brandt.    
   
William Brandt wouldn't have freeclimbed a wall to get here; he would have looked for a fire escape or cased the alley from the ground.  Brandt preferred hand guns and could wield a rifle but wasn't trained in sniper situations.  He preferred a standard hand-to-hand fighting technique with sharp, brutal moves that used his weight to its highest advantages.    
   
Clint had trained with Natasha before his IMF missions, removing himself from how Clint Barton liked to do things, moving into a forward-side-punch instead of a double-kick-sweep.  It was always an effort to bury himself in a character, to trade his acrobatic background for a soldier like Brandt.  But he had enjoyed it, too.  Brandt was better at not wanting things he couldn't have.  It was a nice change of pace.  
   
Ethan's voice over the line brings that all back, and Clint has to fight to keep himself in the present.  "I have eyes."  
   
Benji's voice follows, his exuberance quieted now that they are in the field. "Same."  
   
Nat is in a truck, Clint can hear the faint rumble in the background when she speaks, activating her mic.  "What happens when we get to the drop?" she asks, in a gruff mercenary voice with just the hint of wheeling female dramatic.  He can picture her sitting with her gun positioned _just_ so between her knees, her gaze steady but her eyes excited.  Clint smiles.  It's good to remember that Nat is so much better at this than he is.  Keeps him humble.  
   
Clint can't hear the reply, but Nat's voice comes back after a moment, a slight incredulousness now colouring her tone.  "Seriously?  That's our security system, catchphrases?  Please tell me we at least have someone on the roof."  
   
Again Clint waits, listening for her to give him what he needs to know.  He goes over the sign-countersign in his head again, even though he memorized it from Phil's notes hours ago.    
   
"Oh good, well at least there _some_ kind of real security goes on here.  I mean, 'cut off the head' is a figure of speech right?" and she's grinned now, Clint can tell, joking to her terrorist team.  "I'd rather cut some _other_ heads off, you know?"  Clint can picture her shaking her head.  "But I haven't heard anyone on the comm.  So they must be keeping radio silent unless something happens, right?  That makes sense."  
   
Phil is coming on now, his voice even.  "Okay team, that's a go.  Take out your eyes quietly and they'll never know they're missing."  
   
Clint nods, judging the angle again.  He has a small bow in his pack - it's silent, but Clint sees the angle of the rifle and knows it will drop when the hand holding it falls.  That'll make noise.  He pulls a knife instead.  
   
One quick breath, and then he's dashing silently forward and his knife is in and out before his target has time to exhale.  He catches the sniper rifle before it can clatter to the roof top and his target dies with a puff of breath Clint knows will sound like a sigh.  
   
He doesn't always like what he does, but he is damn good at it.  And a world without HYDRA is a better world overall.  
   
Clint lowers his mark to the ground, then props the body so at a quick glance his mark won't reveal the situation has changed.  
   
Speaking quietly enough for his mic to pick up, but not loud enough to attract attention from the alley, Clint says, "Eye down."  
   
Coulson's mic clicks once, an acknowledgement of the report.  Then he turns his attention to the alley, watching the way his mark moves.    
   
He's a youngish man with a full head of hair and a cocky swagger.  Clint bets he was recruited to cause mayhem and misery and maybe end up on top when the dust settles.  But watching him scout the alley Clint knows he's not in this for religious or political reasons.  
   
That's good for Clint, easier to fake.  He hates playing the crazy ones.  
   
Clint half-lowers himself to the alleyway, balancing off an old outdoor laundry hanger and a pipe, and waits in the shadows.  He feels like a jungle cat, and the sensation only increases when he picks his moment and falls behind his target.  Another short sharp movement and some fancy knife-work and Clint is lowering his second kill to the ground, waiting for the body to stop twitching.  
   
Clint bets "Join HYDRA, Die in an Alleyway" isn't on the recruitment poster. 


	6. Chapter 6

He calls in his kill to Coulson and a moment later Benji reports his eye is down and his target neutralized.  There is still no word from Ethan.  
   
Clint refuses to worry, focuses on dragging the body into the shadows and stripping it.  Like him, the young terrorist is wearing a standard issue bodysuit but over that he's got some scuffed black pseudo-armour Clint wouldn't lay odds on winning any bullet battles.  In his back pocket there's a black cap and Clint puts that on, hoping no one who knew this asshole is running around Rome tonight.  
   
Clint checks the guy's foot size and then puts on his black buckle boots.  They're heavier than Clint's but there's a bit of writing on the side and it helps Clint feel in character.  They're the same size as his, anyway, and already well broken in.  The warmth of the boots doesn't phase him when he pulls them on, but he figures it probably should.    
   
Over his comm he hears - finally - that Ethan has brought down his eye.  His occasional boss sounds a little clipped, like he might be out of breath, but no one questions it.  Coulson gives him the same one-click as the others.  Another minute and Ethan is back, reporting his kill.  Clint goes back to stripping the body.   
   
He transfers his weapons and pulls the face-mask off the punk's neck and wraps it around his own.  Disguise completed, he pulls his own tourist-trap clothes over the body and finishes stuffing it into the back of the alleyway.  It'll be out of sight during the night but come dawn someone is going to find a nasty surprise.  Clint just hopes he doesn't give a little old Italian lady a heart attack.  
   
Then again, if she's anything like Signora Verita at the circus, she's as likely to cluck her tongue and urge the boy's shade to make better choices in his next life than clutch at her chest.  
   
Once he's taken the kid's position at the front of the alleyway, keeping out of sight of the market-goers, Clint checks the weapon.  It looks like a standard semi-automatic rifle, but it's heavier in his hands than he would have expected.  Clint pops the cartridge and sure enough, there's a hiss of gas that shouldn't be there.  The cartridge looks normal, but Clint decides against taking anything else apart.  He might need the weapon to function, after all.  
   
Shouldering the gun, Clint turns and systematically starts casing the alleyway.  It doesn't take ten seconds to realize he may have stumbled upon the first glitch of his mission.  
   
Speaking in a low voice, Clint activates his ear-mic.  "I'm in the alleyway, but there's no sign of any weapons.  My target's semi has been modified, but without firing it I'm not sure its alien-tech."  
   
Coulson's voice comes to his ear.  "The building to your east has a subbasement that should be accessible by grate - look for a low shadow and a wooden knob."  
   
Clint's already walking his hand along the lower half of the building, it's hard to see in the shadows and he doesn't dare turn on his light, but they don't call him Hawkeye just for his aim.    
   
"Got it," he says a moment later.  Then he's turning the knob and reaching a hand inside.  Sure enough he finds boxes, and pulling one out he can make out more of the same weapons he's got in his hand.  
   
"I've got them," Clint says.  He starts pulling boxes out and stacking them in the alley.  "Lead, any bead on the switch team?"  
   
"Alleyway switch team en-route," Coulson says over the line.  "Present in five - four - three - two - one -"  
   
Across the alley, and a locked door clicks and twists open.  Clint looks over to see two men in dark but casual civilian clothes look out.  Together they flash the handsign Clint memorized for this op and wait for his response.  Clint nods, gives the countersign and starts hauling the boxes over to the door.  With the two men helping it's a quick job.  Through the door is an unlit room.  Together they open all five boxes and memorize the lay of the weapons, then quickly pull each modified semi out and replace it with one of the duplicates the tech team has created for them.  Nat's pictures weren't perfect, but they should pass casual inspection.  
   
So long as no one picks them up.  The unmodified weapons are a _lot_ lighter than the HYDRA ones.  Clint debates for a moment, but decides to keep his own modified gun.  He's got extra weapons if it comes down to that, but these boxes probably won't be handled and it's conceivable that his might.    
   
 Besides, holding an alien gun is cool.  He never did get to fire the Phase Two's.  
   
The switch is completed within minutes, and Clint is back to patrolling the alleyway and waiting for Nat.  Now that his own job is completed, he has time to focus on the rest of his teammates.  Ethan has made his own switch without problems and Clint is just thinking so far so good when Benji starts to curse under his breath.  
   
"Lead, I can't find them.  I've looked under, I've looked over, I've even looked sideways and I got nothing."  
   
Clint checks his mental map of the city, he's been in Rome a few times and he knows the layout of the Piazza Navona.  Over the comm he can hear Ethan thinking.  "Where are you?"  
   
Benji's voice comes back.  "West side, across from the statue."  
   
Coulson's voice comes on.  "Location was confirmed.  Van is four minutes out.  I'm sending the switch team in with scanners."  
   
Clint keeps his eyes open, but his attention is fixed on his comm.  After a moment he can hear Benji talking to the tech team.  He wants to look at their scanners and Ethan's voice, warm and warning, speaks up.  "Focus, buddy."  
   
"Right, right - sorry."    
   
A minute and twenty seconds later, and Clint is counting down on the clock, and they find it.  The news isn't good.  
   
"Oh, that's not - " Benji says, and Coulson answers everyone's unspoken question.  
   
"The switch team reports the mark had moved the boxes from the original location.  Are now in plain view of the public."  There's a beat, and then "Switch team back away.  We'll forgo the switch.  Team, concentrate on the primary objective."  
   
"Damn, sorry guys," Benji says over the line.  Clint can practically feel Ethan opening his mouth to say something, but Coulson beats him to it.    
   
"Not your fault," he says, voice even and firm.  It makes Clint want to do terrible things like wrap Coulson in a bear-hug for being nice to his friends, even though it's technically true.  Coulson isn't saying anything that they don't already know, that Ethan wouldn't say, but it's the way he says it, full of confidence and trust, that makes all the difference.  
   
"Right," Benji says, sounding better.  Clint suddenly _really_ wants to introduce him to Captain America.  He remembers why Benji went into this gig, and kept at it enough to make field agent.  He bets the man would get a real kick out of meeting Steve.  
   
 Clint turns his attention back to waiting.  In his ear Nat has been silent, but now there's a click on his mic, a pause, and then two more.  
   
Coulson's voice translates for those who haven't worked with her before.  "Market, two minutes out."   
   
They wait, and then there's another two clicks, a pause and then three more.  Coulson's voice says, "Statue, three minutes out," and then after another three clicks followed by a pause and three more he finishes, "Main street, four minutes out."  
   
Clint nods in the darkness.  He walks the alley, tries to imitate the gait of a punk-ass kid, and pulls his mask up on his face until only his eyes are showing.  The two minutes pass slowly but eventually Clint sees the dim shape of a van with dirty headlights pulling around the market and up to the alleyway.  It slows until the door is level with the alley, and then the side door slides open.  
   
Clint sees three people inside the van, all wearing similar uniforms and masks, but he identifies Natasha easily.  She's the first by the door and her eyes are gruff and mercenary.  Clint glances over the occupants of the van, making sure not to linger too long on Nat.  They've done this before.  
   
"You ready?" asks one of the two other people, Clint can see his grip on his own modified weapon is easy and figures he's probably the leader of this mini-cell.  
   
"Yup," Clint says, sounding young and excited but trying to cover it up with confidence.  He indicates the replaced stash behind him.  "In here."  
   
"Well," the man growls, and his eyes are dark.  A real follower, this one.  "Get the stuff."  
   
Clint nods and walks over to the low door.  He pulls it open and starts hauling the boxes back to the van.  Nat jumps out to help him.  "Oof," she says, grabbing the box.  "Fuck these things are heavy."  
   
They aren't, not really, not since they switched the guns.  But Clint's hoping no one will be able to notice that.    
   
He puts the first box in the van and the guy with dark eyes leans over it.  He opens the box and Clint quietly holds his breath, waiting, but the man just looks at them and doesn't pick one up.  The man nods, once, sharply, and Clint turns back to pull another from the low door.


	7. Chapter 7

The van is loaded in minutes, the boxes stacked at their feet around them.  The others make room and Clint hops in the van.  
   
The leader leans over to thump the driver on the shoulder.  "We're good.  Let's go."  
   
The driver nods and the van eases away from the alleyway.  Clint leans back in his seat.  Behind them he can see two other vans that follow them until they peel off one by one, obviously going to pick up at the other two locations.  
   
"So what happens now?" he asks, making his voice young and just this side of hesitant.  
   
Nat jeers at him.  "Aw, the puppy is excited."  
   
Clint glares at her, then glances obviously at her gun and holds his own a little closer.  The other men laugh.   
   
"Don't worry kid, when we get to where we're going, you're going to be glad we brought some real stopping power with us.  Mercs are piss-poor excuses for human beings," he gives Nat a toothy grin when she glares at him, "but they're good in a fight when the pay is right."  
   
Nat's still scowling, but she nods.  "Damn fucking straight."  
   
Clint shuffles some more.  In his ear he can hear Benji talking to his pick-up team.  Everything seems to be going okay.  But there are real weapons on their way somewhere.  He's got to get Phil a location.  
   
Nat sucks a little on her teeth.  "So, heavy cash man, you still haven't told me what I'm being paid so much to shoot at."  
   
The man jeers at her.  "You'll kill the weak, leaving room for the strong to conquer as is our right."  
   
Clint tries to look like he supports this bullshit.  Nat just raises an eyebrow.   
   
"Right," she says, tone bone dry.  "And who might these 'weak' be?"  
   
"You'll see when we get there," he promises her.  Nat glares at him but settles back in her seat.  She stares, apparently unseeing, out the dirty window.  To Clint she looks bored, but he knows her eyes are tracking every detail.  She raises a hand to scratch at her ear and Clint knows she gives Coulson the 'north, north, west' directions they are traveling.  
   
Clint leans back and tries to relax.  His adrenalin is singing, but he focuses on looking cool.  In his ear Benji has gotten into his own retrieval van and Ethan is just greeting his team now.  It's a little confusing to keep things straight, but fortunately Coulson is there, summarizing things for the team.  
   
"Market and Statue have been retrieved.  No location as of yet.  Both vans are moving northward through the city.  Narrowing down search parameters."  
   
Clint is so fucking thankful it is Coulson on the other end of this line.  He hates that he's in the city, in danger, but there is no one he trusts more to get them through this op intact.  
   
It had been a real change for Clint, working with the IMF.  In that organization teams were sent on assignment and received their orders practically in the field.  The team leader had almost total control and no paperwork was filed until the mission was complete.   
   
Clint had imagined he'd enjoy the freedom, but in the end it had unnerved him.  Standing in a hotel room, listening to Ethan decide to give Russian missile codes to a known nuclear terrorist, Clint had felt panic he'd never faced before.  He'd realized that as much as he might cultivate the Lone Wolf gig, he had become part of a team.  He'd felt so alone, staring at Ethan.  He would have given anything, in that moment, to have Phil's voice in his ear.  
   
But he hadn't, and somehow he had forged a bond with this team instead.  Not as strong as his connection to Phil and Tasha, not by half, based on lies and half-truth as it was, but it had been real.  He had made the choice, given Ethan back the case, and he'd fought and planned with this new team. He'd told them things he'd never even told Phil.  But when it came down to the wire, when he had been wrestling with Winstrom in the engineering room, he hadn't been able to think past the missile heading for the East Coast.  He hadn't been able to think past Phil.  Phil, who was in New York.  Phil, who had likely been sitting in S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, corralling junior agents or doing paperwork, trusting that Clint would do his job.  Would keep him safe.

If he hadn't given Ethan the case, would he have saved himself that heart attack?  Or would Hendricks have simply tried again, as Ethan had warned, in some place they couldn't predict?  Could they have been living in a nuclear winter even now, if Clint had thrown the case out the window instead of giving it back to Ethan's waiting hand?  
   
Clint shivered.  He didn't know.  He didn't _want_ to know.  But he did wonder, sitting in the back of a moving van wearing clothes he had killed to put on, if HYDRA had been behind Hendricks' plan all along.  The man had been a top level Russian politician.  Had someone given him a push?  Had HYDRA?  
   
Would they try again?  
   
At least this time Clint wouldn't be alone.  He had Natasha beside him and Phil in his ear.  If it came down to the wire, neither would abandon him to that choice alone.  Even in the face of nuclear war, it was an encouraging thought.  
   
His ear mic crackled.   
   
"Statue, you are turning west," Coulson said just as Benji's voice came over the line.  
   
"Hey, we turning in to the Catacombs?"  
   
Clint and Nat both subtly tensed.  Clint let Natasha go first, then casually turned to glance out the windows again. They were still heading north.  
   
Benji's voice came back, "Sorry, sorry.  I mean that - well, yes," he paused, then spoke again, his voice contrite, "I guess it _does_ do more damage if a bomb is set off under the city.  I just mean - "  
   
Coulson's voice was instantly on the line.  "Ace, the nearest entrance to the catacombs is six blocks east from your current position."  
   
"Understood," Jane's voice was slightly thready on the line, as if she were already running.  "I'm on it."  
   
In his ear Benji was babbling again, trying to get as much information across to Coulson as he could without getting shot.  Clint was worried about him, Benji was the sort to inspire a twitchy trigger finger in all but his most dedicated friends, but he tried to focus on the movement of the van.   
   
If HYDRA was planning on setting off an explosive device under the city, it was either as a distraction or a means to the end, which meant someone _else_ got to play the distraction.  He couldn't see much out of the grimy windows, but a moment later Ethan clicked on in his ear.  
   
"Think I can play some stocks while we're here?" Ethan joked, as Phil said "Main Street, you are slowing down in the financial district."   
   
"Or would that count as insider trading?" Ethan laughed, "After all, one big boom and - well, _boom_!"  
   
 _Shit_ , Clint thought.  Two bombs, two separate locations.  Coulson was going to have to call this in soon.  The question was, which was the target and which the distraction?  
   
And why the hell were him and Nat still driving?  
   
Nat was evidently thinking the same thing.  She leaned back and sighed loudly.  "I'm _bored_.  When are we going to _get there_?  The city isn't that big."  
   
The man with the cruel eyes smiled.  "Soon.  We will connect with our compatriots, secure the Device and burn fear into the minds of our enemies."  
   
Nat gives the man a feral smile, but Clint is suddenly sweating under his jumpsuit.  
   
 _The Device_.  
   
Fuck.


	8. Chapter 8

"So, this Device," Clint says, for the benefit of Phil, who is with him on this, Phil who has got his back.  "What's it do?"  When the man turns to stare at him, Clint gives him the wide eyes of every junior agent.  "Hey, I'm just asking."  
   
Mean Eyes smiles again.  It's creepy.   
   
"It will guarentee our future," he says, belief heavy in every word.  "The Baron himself had told us this, and when he claims it, the future shall be ours."  
   
Clint blinks at the man and says, "Okay," trying really, _really_ hard to project that he's completely on board with this bat shit crazy plan.  But in his ear he can hear Coulson speaking into what must be a phone.  
   
"Whiskey-Tango-Foxtrot-eight-three-four-three," Coulson says, his voice tight.  Clint can feel the van taking a corner, has to brace himself against the seat.  "We have a possible target - " he hesitates, and Clint meets Tasha's eyes for a moment because Couslon _never_ hesitates, not in the field.  
   
"It may be the Data Gem."  
   
Clint keeps his confusion from his face, tries to look young and eager and ready.  The data gem?  Whatever it is, its far beyond his clearance level.  He looks over at Nat, and see's her gaze is introspective now.  He feels a fission of fear, and blinks to keep the world from going misty blue.  
   
This is different.  It has to be different.  And even if it isn't, there is no Loki here. 

"If it is," Coulson is saying, "Baron Von Struker may be arriving in the city personally."  There is a pause, and then Phil says, "Yes, sir."  
   
The van is slowing down.  Clint looks out the window.  In his ear Phil is evaluating the situation, summarizing.  Clint knows he does it out loud for his own benefit as much as theirs.  

"Okay.  We have two confirmed bombs in the city, one in the financial district in a more public area and one underground in the catacombs, more secluded.  We have an artifact that HYDRA appears attempting to recover, and there is a distinct possibility that the leader of HYDRA, Baron Von Struker himself, may arrive personally to contact this device."  He pauses for a moment, thinking, and Clint identifies the area where the van is slowing.  They're nearing the Coliseum.

"Main Street," Phil asks, and Clint can hear the question before it comes, knows what Phil wants to hear, "I can have six agents at your position inside three minutes.  Can you handle the situation with that backup?"

They all wait a moment, and then Ethan says, "Yeah, I bet they will," obviously answering two questions at once.

Clint can almost see Phil nod.  "Okay.  Ace, continue towards the catacombs.  Support Statue and give assistance towards disposal of the bomb.  Use caution, the weapons are hot.  Alleyway and Spider, you are slowing near the Coliseum.  Agents are on-route but will remain out of sight.  We don't want to spook them. I'm going to update your support staff.”

The van is coming to a stop and through the front windshield Clint can see the rising magnificence of the Coliseum.  He's been here before, but never at night. 

There's a click over the line, and Phil's voice is in his ear again.  "All teams, listen up.  We have a Priority Alpha.  Repeat.  We have a Priority Alpha.  HYDRA is attempting to retrieve a device of extreme power.  Our utmost mission is to prevent this retrieval.  Our secondary mission is to eliminate the leader of HYDRA, Baron Von Strucker, who may or may not be present in the city.

We have unconfirmed suspicions that the device in question is a time-travelling artifact that appears at specific points in time for a few moments only before vanishing again.  If this is the case it is imperative that we learn the time and location of the drop.  That is where we will accomplish missions one and two of this operation.  To distract us and the local authorities we believe HYDRA has placed two bombs in two separate locations in the city.  The coordinates are available to you.  Teams have been dispatched and you have already received your instructions.  We must, repeat we  _must_ , attempt to coordinate our strike against HYDRA.  It is imperative that we learn the time and place of the artifact's appearance, if in fact it is due to appear.  That means no one moves until I give the order.  Is this understood?"

They can all hear the chorus of "Yes, sir!". The line clicks again and Clint knows Phil is speaking to just them.  "Ace, talk to me."

The van is stopped now, and the driver's side door opens.  Clint and Natasha wait in the van with the other HDYRA agents.  The man with the mean eyes has gone hard and still, his gaze on the front windshield.  Clint looks over the front seat to see their driver walking forward towards the Coliseum.  They've parked half a block away, under a no parking sign.  The city of Rome is bustling with night life around them, but Clint can see two sets of headlights driving forward towards their position.  Their driver stands outside, waiting.

In his ear, Jane sounds slightly out of breath.  "I'm nearing the entrance to the catacombs."  There's a slight pause, and the volume of her voice drops.  "I have visual confirmation of the van.  It's empty."

Phil's voice comes on.  "Statue, is the bomb with you?"

Benji is nervous, but covering it well.  It sounds in-character for him to say, "This thing is rather heavy, isn't it?  I mean, how much farther do we have to carry this, really?"

Jane comes back.  "Understood.  Proceeding into the catacombs.  Statue, I can hear you faintly."

In the van, Clint watches the two other vehicles drive up.  For Phil's benefit he turns to the man with the hard eyes and asks, "Should I get the boxes out to meet our visitors?  Is this the weapons drop?"

In his ear, Phil is saying, "Tell me if you have confirmation of Strucker."  The man in front of him keeps his eyes on the meet.  Clint doesn't bother looking, knowing Nat is alert for the HYDRA kingpin.

"Wait, eager one," the man says, amused.  "You will have your chance to earn glory soon."

Beside him Nat snorts.  Then she asks, "Hey, who's the bald guy with the nerdy glasses as the suitcase-sized compass?"

Clint turns.  Outside the van, the two other vehicles – both local delivery trucks – have stopped.  Several people dressed in HYDRA gear are pouring out, and climbing out of the back Clint can see the man Nat is asking about.

The guy is obviously a scientist, or at least not a meat-level grunt like the rest of them.  He's got wire-frame glasses that perch comically on his nose, but small, mean, rat-like eyes and a pinched mouth make him look sinister rather than funny. He's carrying what honestly  _does_  look like an suitcase-sized compass in both hands.  He holds it up the Coliseum and it must do something because the small man smiles.  It's a mean, rat-like smile and Clint suddenly remembers those 1960  _Captain America and the Howling Commandos!_  cartoons he used to watch with Barney on Saturday mornings.  His Dad would stay out late drinking on Friday and usually be passed out till noon and he and Barney would crouch in the kitchen in front of their ancient television set with the crooked bunny ears and watch that show whenever they could.    
This guy looks like just like the evil HYDRA scientists on that TV.  It's funny, but also extremely creepy.  It makes him wish Steve were here, even though he sucks at subtlety and would completely blow their cover.

"Spider, keep on him," Phil is saying.  Clint wonders if he watched the cartoons, and has to work not to laugh.  Of course he did.  He probably owns the entire series on DVD.

Behind him, Mean Eyes says "Excellent," and turns to open the sliding side door of the van.  He hops out and Nat and Clint both follow.  Clint starts grabbing boxes and Nat helps him, but Mean Eyes stops them both.  "Wait," he says, and turns back to them.  Clint freezes, thinking for a moment the man is going to open the box and start pulling out guns.  He'll notice immediately the weight isn't right, and Clint readies himself to take the man out, quickly and silently, before he can raise the alarm.

But the man simply says, "Leave one box here," and then he grins.  "The heat from the explosion, mixed with the improved design will create a sufficient amount of panic."

Clint nods and laughs, and turns to put the boxes back.   _Fuck fuck fuck _, he thinks.  There are _three__  bombs, not two._

"Except when we blow the van, the rounds will fire randomly," Nat says, contemptuously, putting her box down.  "I don't plan on getting shot."

Phil curses low in his ear.  The man waves a hand at the Coliseum in front of them.  "I will set the timer for ten minutes.  We will be more than protected by then."  He points to Nat, "You.  Take your weapons and distribute to the contact team.  I want a perimeter set up around the Coliseum.  You," he turns to Clint, "leave that one and come with me.  We have a very important person to meet."

Clint nods and sets down his box.  "I can set the timer," he offers. 

Mean Eyes shakes his head. "You do not know how to tie your shoelaces.  Go."

Clint hesitates, but then Phil's voice comes to him.  "Go, Alleyway.  I have eyes on you."  

Clint resists the urge to look around for their bakery van.  Of course Phil is here, watching them.  He couldn't stay out of the field.  Fucking stubborn, idiotic man.  What part of 'liability in the field' did he not understand?

And he had Clint where he couldn't even bitch at him.  

"Just set the timer right," Clint says out loud.  He's speaking to Mean Eyes, but he knows Phil can damn well hear him.  "You get blow up or shot and I won't enjoy picking up the pieces."

The man gives him an unimpressed look, but in his ear Phil sound faintly amused.  "Noted."


	9. Chapter 9

Mean eyes reaches under the back seat of the van, and Clint can see him connecting wires.  Beside him, Nat is turning and heading towards her fellow mercs.  There are other people coming out of the vans in front of them, several dressed in the more personal style of armour that means they aren't regular HYDRA goons.  Nat meets them and starts handing out weapons.  No one seems to blink at the weight, so Clint figures they weren't expecting anything different.

"Spider, I don't have to tell you the more mercenaries you can quietly take out before the shooting starts the better off we will be.”

Nat doesn't say anything, but Clint can swear the tilt of her shoulders means she's amused.

In front of him the man is stepping away from the van.  He hoists his own alien-enhanced weapon and nods his head at Clint.  "With me," he says, and Clint follows.

They're walking towards the group of other vans when Jane starts swearing in his ear.

"Fuck, fuck - okay control, we have a problem in the catacombs," she says, low and hurried.  "The bomb is in a black briefcase.  There are a group of - looks like mercenaries - waiting in the catacombs.  The local HYDRA leader is exchanging the black briefcase for money and handing it over."  She pauses, then says, "Statue, can you confirm the bomb is active?"  

There's another pause.

"Statue has nodded, he's confirmed it.  The bomb is active but I don't believe the mercenaries understand.  They are carrying the briefcase away and the HYDRA team is turning around."

Clint keeps walking towards the other vans.  His heart is pounding.

Phil's voice sounds calm.  Clint can hear the faint sounds of traffic coming from around him though, and knows Phil has left the van.  "Ace, can you follow the briefcase?"

Jane's voice is low.  Clint guesses she has hidden herself as the HYDRA group walks by.  "Yes, I think I can."

Phil is steady.  "Then follow it.  Do we have any idea how much time is on the bomb?"

Jane is obviously watching Benji.  After a moment she says, "Statue doesn't know.  He thinks more than five minutes, less than ten."

"Okay.  Ace, do your best to incapacitate the team and retrieve the briefcase.  Use what means you need and disable that device.”

Clint can hear him crossing the street. “Statue,” he says to Benji, “stick with your team. HYDRA will open fire as a distraction. The local Agents will follow your signal and provide aid. Main Street, your back-up is up and ready to go."  

There is a slight pause.  "I'm heading towards the Coliseum bomb."

Clint almost starts and turns around.  He clenches his hands tighter around his modified weapon, instead.  Beside him Nat is leading her mercenary force away towards the Coliseum, and Clint knows she has a counter going down in her head, same as him.  

Same as Phil.

Fuck.

Beside him, Mean Eyes stops and Clint follows suit.  The rat-man with the suitcase compass is nodding at them.  "Yes, yes, good.  You have the weapons, yeah?" and oh god, even his voice is classic evil scientist with the thick German accent.  Clint wants to roll his eyes, but manages to nod instead.

"Good, good.” The HYDRA scientist waves the compass towards the Coliseum.  "We are in the right place.  This way!" 

Mean eyes grins.  "The days of HYDRA have come," he says.

"Hail HYDRA!" the goons around him echo.  Clint joins in.

Together, the group starts towards the Coliseum.  In his ear, Clint hears Nat give a short, sharp grunt, and his heart stops.  But then she clicks one-two over the line, and he relaxes, falling into step with the others.  She's taking out the mercs, then, good.

He resists the urge to look behind him.  He knows Phil is likely at the van.  The itch to start shooting and run back to help him is strong.  But he knows they have neither objective one nor two in sight and he can't lose focus now.  

It doesn't help when he hear Phil hiss low in his ear.  There's a short pause, then a click and Phil says, "I need Tony Stark,  _now_."

It's one of the hardest things Clint's ever done, but he keeps walking towards the Coliseum.  They're under the archway now, in the visitor's entrance, and around him goons are grinning and watching the lead scientist and his compass.  Clint's hands are sweating.

Jane's voice comes over the line.  "Mercs are down.  Crap, Control.  What the hell is this?"

"I don't know," Phil's voice comes back.  He's steady, but tight.  "Stark, are you there?"

Someone has obviously gotten Tony an ear-mic. It should be distracting, because Tony talks even more than _he_ does on an open comm, but it's also incredibly comforting. Clint feels his shoulders relax, a little. 

He'd told himself he'd never be a team player. Not again. It had been him and Barney versus the world, but that hadn't lasted long.  Clint had teamed up first with Trickshot, and then, after that fell through, with the Swordsman. After Dismal Failure Number Three he had just stopped trying.  It had taken years for him to trust Phil, but once he had … Well, strangely, the others came easier.  Trusting Natasha took months, but with Ethan, Jane and Benji, it had only taken weeks.  Then, one grand battle together and Clint apparently felt comfortable with Tony, Steve and even Bruce having his back.

It was weird.  Like a dam-breaking, maybe.  But it had all started with Phil.

"Agent!" Tony says, gleeful and yet focused over the line, "And boys and girls, welcome to the team.  So nice to be invited,  _finally_.  We are going to have words about when it is not okay to run off and save the world alone.  But for now, okay, let me see here, move the camera just - good.  Okay," Tony whistles, low.  "Huh.  Okay.  Give me a view around the back - JARVIS, run that - yes that, good.  Okay, Coulson.  I mean, whatever, call-sign person, okay maybe I'm not cut out for counter-espionage, okay?  Okay Steve? Just – no, just stop talking and let me disarm the damn bomb already.  Oh shit, you have one too?  Give me both screens up here, now."

Ethan's voice comes on suddenly, and Clint doesn't stumble, doesn't pause, just keeps walking forward.  They are inside the Coliseum proper now, heading through the marketplace, following the multi-lingual signs to the inner arena. 

"I'll stay with it with him," Ethan is volunteering to someone, “Nah, I don't need any help.”  There's a pause, and Clint has time to walk another ten steps with his group before Ethan's back on the line, breathing hard.  

"Okay, Control, we have bomb number three.  I'm alone. My back-up is following the HYDRA agents.  My bomb is also in a briefcase, where's that camera - okay, can you see it?"

"Yeah, yeah, I got you," Tony's voice is steady, slightly far away, and Clint knows he's seeing circuit patterns in his head.  "Three different bombs, three different types of devices, of course.  Okay!" Clint can hear the loud hand-clapping.  "Okay, first.  We need an explosion at all three sites, right?  I mean, we need a boom, just not a big badda boom, right?  Steve, don't look at me like that, that's embarrassing, JARVIS add  _The Fifth Element_  to our movie-night roster, okay?  Now, Coulson, I need you to disconnect the green wire, you, man-person, remove the blue and you, woman-like-creature-over-the-phone remove the red.  Okay -"

Clint takes a deep breath.  They've got this.  Tony's got this.  He needs to concentrate now, because they've reached the central arena.  The HYDRA scientist has stopped and his compass is spinning a little wildly.  He pauses and it settles, pointing a little to the left.  

The scientist goes to follow the compass, but Mean Eyes reaches out and jerks him back.  "Wait," he says, voice warning.  "We wait for the Baron."

The scientists gestures at the spinning dial, which is a little impressive considering he's carrying the compass in both hands.  "It is close!"

Mean Eyes looks up, "So is he."

Clint follows his gaze.  The sky looks empty where he can see it above the Coliseum's walls.  He wonders for a moment what this place would have looked like, full of screaming fans.

"Helicopter?" he asks.  

Phil is in his ear, overriding Tony's ongoing drone of instructions for a moment.  "We've been scanning the area, no sign of activity."

"No," Mean Eyes says beside Clint, shaking his head.  "Too conspicuous."

Clint strains his eyes against the dark of night.  It takes him a moment, but he sees it.  A faint patch of black-on-blackness.  The patch grows, becomes more distinct.  It's a parachute, he realizes as it drifts closer.  

Clint's parachuted before, and done so at night over a city.  He knows the random updrafts from the heat of traffic and office buildings can throw you off course, knows it can be hard to hit a target.  He hears Nat's voice over the line, wonders if she's taken out all the mercs by now.

"Control, I have a target.  It may be the Baron.  Should I take the shot?"

Clint grimaces. That's usually his line.  And it's a tough shot.  He doesn't know where Nat is, but he knows she wouldn't offer if she couldn't pull it off. 

Phil knows it, too.

"Wait, Spider.  Stark, are we almost done?"

Tony sounds distracted, lost in his head and the three bombs he's disabling at once, "Yeah.  Yeah, almost there.  This is a little critical though, I don't want to get anyone blown up or killed, you know, would hate for you to die again Coulson, it kinda sucked the first time. So if you could just shut up for a moment, let me think here - "

"Can you coordinate the bombs, give us a twenty second count?" Phil says, and he sounds almost amused, damn him.  Clint wants to shout for him to shut up and let Tony concentrate.  He wasn't a fan of the first time either.

"Yeah, I can do that.  Already on it, what did you think I was going to do, not give you a count at all?  Such faith.  Coulson you have the - yeah that one, Ethan you've -" And they're on a first name basis now, just great, this is what Clint had been hoping to avoid, "- good, and Ja - yeah.  Perfect.  Okay, cross those, all of you.  And okay.  Do you want the count now? 'Cause I can give you the count now.  Hit the switch and you'll have the count, a thirty-second count, I am the fucking god of machines, hear me roar, okay?  Anyone listening?  Steve, am I not the king?"

Clint can't hear Steve's reply, but Phil's voice is steady.  "Spider, you have the shot?"  

Nat clicks her earpiece once.

"If we do this, it means we are going for the Baron. Alleyway, you stay on the compass and tract it towards the Data Gem. Understood?”

Clint lifts a hand to scratch at his ear, clicking his radio once. He understands. Phil is deviating from the plan, choosing to set off the bombs now while they still have some control over the situation. He is betting that Natasha can take out Strucker and gambling that Clint will be able to track the scientist to this weird time-travelling device that has S.H.I.E.L.D. in a Priority Alpha panic. 

It's not the first time Phil's gone off plan, it's not even the fifth, but Clint knows how much it costs him. If any part of this goes bad, if anyone dies, or is injured, or gets away – Clint knows Phil will spend the next two weeks in his office, filling out paperwork and staring at forms, going over every minute of the operation to obsess over reactions, events and decisions made in the field. He will blame himself personally for every mistake, and wonder how to do better.

And then he will file the paperwork, go back to field-work, and do it all over again. 

Clint knows he does it to avoid making the same mistake twice, understands that Phil's obsessive streak makes him the top agent he is. But he also see the toll it takes on him, the hours of sleep lost, the way Phil gets haggard and drawn and has to be reminded to do human things like eat. It's why junior agents think Phil is a robot, and is half the reason why Clint tries as hard as he does. Every mistake he doesn't make is one less mistake Phil blames himself for.

He misses the days when it was just him, Nat, and Phil. Those missions were easier, their success-rate higher, and Phil slept better. It's not his imagination – he's followed him home more than once to spy on him from the apartment building across the street. He's never fooled himself into thinking Phil doesn't know.

“Main Street and Ace, are you ready?"

There are two more clicks.  Clint waits on the ground, standing beside Mean Eyes and watching the parachute come down.  It's drifting closer to them now, on target.  In front of them, the scientist is poking at his compass and the machine is whirring slightly.  Clint tenses.

"Okay, hit the switch," Phil says, and Clint knows he's done it and is already running.  "Get clear, get clear, all teams get clear.  Grab that, yes that box now, grab that - Ace, Main Street, you clear?"  

Ethan and Jane shout "Clear!" on the line and they are running, everyone is running, and Clint is standing still, counting down.  Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen - 

Above him he knows Nat is tracking the shot.  The parachute is getting closer.  Clint can see the man hanging in it now, pulling slightly at the straps.  He's wearing the black armour of a HYDRA agent, and his face is fully covered in a gas-like mask that wraps around his entire head.

\- five, four, three, two -

From behind them, in the street, Clint hears the explosion.  He doesn't know what Tony has done, how much explosive there was to begin with, but it's still a pretty big boom.  He has a moment to spare a thought for Jane, Ethan, and Benji, but then Nat's shot rings out and the man hanging in the harness goes limp.  


	10. Chapter 10

Mean Eyes shouts, a scream of rage, and in front of them the scientist takes off. Clint knows he's running in the direction the compass is pointing. The HYDRA goons are shouting, guns up, looking wildly around for the shooter. 

Above them Natasha shouts, “Traitor!” Someone else gives a cry. There is a short scuffle, and then a body is plummeting towards them, falling from somewhere up high.

Clint sees Mean Eyes dart forward. Laying on the hard dirt floor of the Arena is one of the mercenaries. Mean Eyes starts shouting, eyes wide and panicked, but Clint is already running towards the scientist. 

He keeps his eyes open as he runs and sees Nat somersalt down from up high. She's running towards the parachute. It's still dropping out of the sky, but without control now.  It's going to hit, and hit hard, and then it does. Nat runs forward while Clint sprints away towards the scientist.  He knows Phil is somewhere behind him, medical orders be damned, and he's bringing a full S.H.I.E.L.D. contingent.

They don't need his help on clean up. And besides, Phil had given him orders.

The scientist is fast, faster than he looks, and he obviously knows where he's going. Clint is distracted by the shouting going on behind him, but he doesn't look back. Ahead of him the scientist has reached the edge of the area and Clint can see a heavy, ancient looking grate-door, probably one of the ones they kept tigers behind back in the Roman days. 

He puts on a burst of speed to catch up, but Nat's voice in his ear makes him stumble.

"It's not him," she says, shouting for the benefit of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents running into the area. “It's a young man, it's not Strucker!”

The scientist has the door open now, compass held awkwardly in one hand, and he's darting through. Clint dives after him. Phil is in his ear now.

"All agents converge on our position.  Repeat, all agents converge on the Coliseum.  The Baron is not down.  Repeat, the Baron is not down and the device is active.”

Phil sounds tense. “Alleyway, stay on the device."

Clint would spare breath to comment on his ability to follow orders in the field, but he doesn't want to scientist to look back and realize how much he's gained on him. Instead he clicks his ear piece once to acknowledge the order and slips around the iron door.

Ahead of him the scientist has paused in a dirt-floored room that looks like tigers might jump out of corners at any minute. Clint reins in his breathing and crouches in a pool of shadow, feeling close to feline himself.

The scientist pauses, watching the compass, its electric green screen fritzing for a moment before stabilizing. It flashes something Clint can't read from this angle, and the scientist darts to the right.  Clint follows and sees the man run towards one of the doors that surround the tiger room.  

The door is locked, a heavy padlock Clint could have open in thirteen seconds, easy. The scientist doesn't bother picking it, simply balances the compass clumsily on one forearm and pulls out a pistol.  It looks like the small cousin to the alien-tech Clint's still holding, only it's glowing faintly blue. 

Clint knows that blue. It's the blue of Loki's spear, the blue of the Cube. 

The sight of it stops him, shocks him. Clint forces himself to push past it. He keeps his eyes on the scientist, breathing through the unwelcome torrent of memories the sight of the gun has triggered. The man points his weapon at the door.  There is a blue sizzle flash, and the door vanishes in a puff of smoke and debris.

Clint ducks back into the shadows and waits a beat as the scientist runs through the now smoking doorway. 

"Okay,” he says aloud, “mental note to all teams - don't get shot by blue alien sizzle guns. Blue alien sizzle guns are _bad_."

"Noted," Phil says, tone dry even though he's obviously running.  Clint can hear shots and crunching sand in the distance and knows S.H.I.E.L.D is in a hell of a fight behind him. He wants so badly to turn back and help, but he grits his teeth and forces himself forward.

Besides, a dry Phil is a breathing Phil. And a breathing Phil is a Phil who will have to take shit from Fury if he made a call on an op that lost S.H.I.E.L.D its objective. 

So Clint moves silently through the now evaporated door instead of turning back.  Inside the old hallway is dry and dark, but the blue glowing gun actually gives off enough light to see by. In the dimness Clint can make out the faint green sheen of the compass, as well.

The light reflects unevenly though, and the man has vanished around at least two turns before Clint dares to follow.  It doesn't help that the man is murmuring softly now, and the sound bounces erratically, too.

"Close, so close, after all these years.  Yes, come, my pretty.  Come to me.  Come to me again."

Clint darts forward, low and close to the ground.  He has his gun in one hand and he reaches into his boot for a knife to hold in the other.  He follows the scientist around corners, always sticking a little ways back, and says low for Phil to hear, "Okay, I'm getting serious creepy Gollum-like feelings from this guy.  What's the word on this Data Gem, again?"

Phil's voice is sharp, serious.  "Don't touch it.  Whatever happens Clint, don't touch it."

The bouncing light has stopped. Clint peers around a corner, noting that Phil's use of his first name means the majority of the fighting has ended and the number of HYDRA agents who might intercept their radio signals is significantly diminished. That, or he's really freaked out. But since Phil doesn't get really freaked out, it probably means the shooting part is over.

In the hallway the scientist is hunched over in a corner, compass pointing towards a corner of an old wall.

"No, no no!" the man is cursing now.  He's fiddling with the compass, turning knobs.  "We don't have long, what is wrong with this - " He hits it.  The compass shorts for a moment, then comes back, wavering slightly.

The man says a word in German that even Clint doesn't understand, and then he's up and running again.  Clint curses under his breath and follows.  "I think we're heading up," he says.

"Understood," Nat replies, her voice in his ear.  Clint spies the staircase the man is heading towards and looks around.  There is slightly more light here, and they must be near a tourist area because there are some neon-signs in the distance.  He sees another staircase along an opposite wall and takes the steps low, two at a time.

He keeps the scientist in his periphery and follows him.  Together they race towards the top of the Coliseum. The stairs go up and up. From the signs Clint is reading as they go they are on the second highest level when the scientist, panting, breaks away from the staircase. He turns instead and heads down a long dusty corridor.  Clint follows. 

The corridor is one of the upper levels, near the top of the Coliseum. The floor is ancient and dusty, the walls old layered stone. On his left there is a balcony and, below that, the arena. Clint spares a look over the edge and sees HYDRA agents on the ground. There are a number of S.H.I.E.L.D. people in black standing over them. Everyone is near the far end of the arena, though, and difficult to see in the darkness. 

Clint wants to stop and see if he can make out Phil, but he doesn't dare. Instead he darts forward from shadow-to-shadow, feet quiet on the ancient floor. He's half-way down the corridor when a low roar rattles his ears. It's the sound of a Quinjet, far away but closing quick. 

The scientist in front of him hears it, too. Clint hears him swear in German, and then he's running again, apparently having gotten his wind back.

Clint's running after him when he spots it. It's a flat black disc on the floor, almost hidden in a patch of shadow. The scientist must have dropped when he heard the quinjet roaring overhead.

Clint turns, diving to the side even as his brain consciously realizes why. But he's not quite fast enough.


	11. Chapter 11

There's a sharp flash of green light and a searing pain reaches up Clint's spine.  His jaws clamp shut and he can't even scream as the agony rips through him.  He falls on his side, numb and paralyzed. Above him someone starts to chuckle.

Clint can't turn his head, can't move a muscle through the pain, but he knows the scientist has backtracked towards him.

"S.H.I.E.L.D., of course," the man says, and his voice is older, somehow, more powerful than when Clint had heard it before.  "I knew you would come.  You will witness your doom, then, as is your -"

A shadow detaches itself from the wall. Natasha kicks the man in the head before he can finish preaching his crazy HYDRA ideal.  Clint wants to laugh at the expression of surprise on the scientist's face, but he's still paralyzed.

The scientist falls somewhere to Clint's right. Clint tries to turn to watch him fall. It hurts, it hurts everywhere, but he manage to twitch once violently onto his back.  

Only once he starts twitching it seems he can't stop. Clint's helpless as he's wracked by electrical shocks that bend his spine so far back he's seriously afraid he's going to crack himself in half. 

He does his best to concentrate on the situation despite the pain. He can hear the man beside him roll to his feet. Natasha is the liquid-quick footsteps, the scientist the heavier beat. The scientist shuffles to the side and Natasha pauses on the floor. Her boots slide slightly and then she's up, jumping and twisting in midair.

Clint knows this move. It's one of her favourites. She distracts them and then flips herself in the air, kicking at her opponent before she spins, grabbing them by the head with her thighs. She flips them so they are pinned, shocked and dazed beneath her on the floor.

But this time there's a short sharp grunt, and another flash of painful green light. Clint wants to shout, to warn her, but it's too late. 

Nat falls beside him, twitching. Green shocks run up and down her body and she's convulsing on the floor. 

He wants to - tries to - scream her name, but all he can manage is an "aaaaatt."

Above him, beyond his field of vision, the man's voice is breathless but steady.  "Black Widow, of course.  And this –" Clint knows the kick is coming, tries to brace for it and can't. “Is the infamous Hawkeye."

Clint groans with the force the kick.  His stolen HYDRA armour takes some of the damage, but he thinks a rib or three is broken or bruised.

"I must say, I was quite interested when rumours of your defection came to my ears," the scientist is saying, less breathless now.  He is standing above them, and Clint forces his eyes to open.  Beside him he can hear Nat breathing harshly, trying to get her own muscles back under control.

The scientist kicks him again, on the same side.  Clint grunts.  

"Of course, I heard later you were only doing that fool Loki the False God's busy-work.  Too bad. Your skills would be useful to HYDRA.” His feet are heavy on the ancient floor. Clint can hear him walking away. There's a slight scuffle and he bends over to pick up the dropped compass.

"Perhaps,” he croons, “When I touch the Data Gem again, I will understand such secrets as well.  I think I would enjoy that, turning every member of S.H.I.E.L.D. against it.  Forcing you all to fight.  Yes," The man's voice is low and silky.

Clint thrashes desperately. He's hyperventilating and everything is threatening to go blue again. He can't move, he _can't move_. Not again, he thinks. _Not again._

"Yes,” the scientist says, obviously relishing Clint's distress. “I would like that."

Above him, loud in the evil silence, Clint hears the unlocking of a safety.

"Well now," a voice says, and it's Ethan's voice. Clint takes a deep breath in and it's like the world starts turning again. "You are one sick mother fucker, aren't you?"

Clint blinks, realizes he can do that much on purpose, and valiantly tries to stretch slightly.  It hurts, but its something.  He tries to get his legs under him and fails.

"You," the scientist turns.  Clint can hear the arrogance in his voice and knows Ethan can hear it, too.  "I don't know _you._ "

Clint manages to get a leg under him, and turns, bracing his arms on the floor.  Beside him Nat is still twitching.  

"I'm a subcontractor," Ethan says, and Clint knows without looking that he's wearing his shit-eating grin.  "Now hand me the compass."

"Ahh.” The man's voice is oily slick.  "They sent you in with a gun and a mission, did they?  They never even told you what it was you were after."  Clint can see him lift the compass, slightly.  He gets his other arm underneath him and when it slips out, he gets it under again.

"They never told you what true power is."

Ethan doesn't sound amused.  "Put the box on the floor and your hands behind your head.  Or I _will_ shoot you."

The man ignores him.  "Information is power, and that's what the Data Gem is.  The Momentary Princess, they call it.  It appears every two and a half decades, and it wanders about the globe.  The first time I touched it, it was almost an accident.  It granted me a vision of the future. I saw my own rise through HYDRA.”

His voice turns slick, “What," he asks, "would it show you?"

Clint breathes around the pain in his ribs and pushes himself to his feet. It feels like the most painful thing he's ever done, and he once tried running on a broken leg. But at least he's mobile. Sort of

Beside him Nat is rolling over, too, trying to get her muscles to obey.

Above them Ethan's hand on his gun is steady, but Clint can hear the faint shake in his voice.  "That's impossible. The future is fluid."

The scientist chuckles. "Impossible? Have you seen nothing of world?” 

Clint stands, shakily. He's standing behind Ethan and the scientist now, and neither are looking at him.  The scientists lifts his compass again.  

"It's going to appear, you know.  Right there," He indicates a blank patch of wall their left, " - in about fifteen to thirty seconds.  It will only appear for a few minutes before vanishing again. It will not reappear for twenty-seven to twenty-nine years.  This may be your only chance."

Clint hates it, but he can see Ethan hesitating.  His eyes dart to the location where the gem will be.

"Such power," the man hisses, low, "to know the future.  Where will you be, what will you be doing?  Will your loved ones be safe?"

Clint sees Ethan flinch and knows the scientist notices, too. 

Clint's got a counter in his head, whittling down the seconds.  He looks to his left and sees Natasha.  She's on her feet, if unsteady, and she meets his eyes.  He sees the same thought he has cross her face, and when the first flicker in the air appears, they move together.

Ethan finches at the light, but then turns because it's coming from  _behind_  him, opposite from where the scientist said it would be. 

The scientist is already moving, throwing himself backward. He's moving towards the flickering light.

Natasha is there before him. She moves, falling against his legs because she can't manage a more concentrated strike. But it seems to take him out.  Clint hears the "ooph" as they hit the ground together.  He has already darted right, towards Ethan, unsure if the man was telling the truth or not.

Clint tries to stop himself, to turn around, but his muscles still aren't working right.  They twitch and he falls. Ethan is left on his own, spinning around, gun pointing at an empty piece of air.

The scientist has hit the floor, but twisted on his way down so that Nat is underneath him.  Still, Clint sees it when the scientist hits his head. He's looking right at him, so he notices when the skin fold strangely.  He hates to be proven right, but before he can say or do anything about it the scientist has whipped out two black discs and is throwing them towards Ethan.

The scientist is fast, but Clint is faster.

His muscles are twitching, but this was one of the first tricks the circus taught him. Wooden coins from the stands, and Tiboldt's voice shouting “And now, Hawkeye: the World's Greatest Marksman!”

He doesn't have his bow, but the alien-doped weapon is enough. Clint pulls it from his holster even as the discs arc towards Ethan. He fires twice and both discs vaporize in the air.

The scientist snarls from the floor.  Natasha twists, holding him in place, but he can see that it hurts her. Hell, it hurts _him_ to move and he's had more recovery time than she has. 

Clint starts towards them, but the scientist twists again. Only this time he turns _into_ Natasha's hold. Clint sees her recognize the trap. She tries to flinch away, but her heel depresses a button on the scientist's chest. 

It's black-on-black, camouflaged by the HYDRA undersuit, but it's definitely a button. Clint hears the _click_ a moment before Nat begins to scream. This isn't one of her usual shouts, but a high-pitched inhuman wail that has something in Clint's hindbrain shaking. The scream seems to start from the base of her spine and explode upward. 

Clint can barely think around the horrible sound. 

The scientist has gotten to his feet. Ethan is tracking him with his pistol. Two shots ring out as Ethan shoots him, but something in the chest plate deflects them. 

The scientist grins at Ethan and raises his own weapon.  It's the faintly glowing one that vaporizes, and Clint sees Ethan's eyes go wide.  He's throwing himself backward, away from the barrel, even as Clint turns to tackle him.  They go down a heap and the shot sizzles above them, blasting away at the ancient balcony of the Coliseum.

They hit the ground as parts of the ceiling cave in. The scientist's shot has taken out the balcony and part of the ceiling. The eruption of dust and debris hide the scuffle as the scientist turns back, towards the gem.

Clint doesn't know how long the Data Gem is supposed to be in existence, but he can see the faint shimmer still in the air.  He coughs and looks up from the floor. He's tangled with Ethan in a heap, at the edge of what is now a partially-destroyed wall.  Beneath them the floor is open to the arena floor.

The man has already turned back towards the gem.  It's still there, hanging slightly in the air, a soft blue light surrounding it.

It's faintly diamond-like in shape, but looking at it hurts his eyes. Clint can feel it _pushing_ at him, somehow. Like it wants Clint to do something, wants Clint to _understand_. 

The gem is pulsating, flickers of light expanding and contracting around it. The pushing feeling is timed to the bursts, and, staring at it, Clint feels something prickle behind his eyes.  Images, faint and blurry, speed before his vision.

He doesn't know what they are. He doesn't  _want_  to know.  This thing, this Data Gem, looks far too much like the Tesseract for Clint's comfort.  He can almost hear Loki's voice, low in his ear, and the images in his mind's eye blur and then clear again.  

Clint can  _see_  Loki now, writhing in pain, somewhere dark and cold.  And he can see other things,  _scarier_  things, in dark shining places,. There are stars hanging in the background and a voice laughs from beyond the blackness of space. Clint feels cold, colder than he has ever felt. He knows Death is watching him, and She is smiling.

A shadow moves in front of Clint's vision. He blinks and the room comes into focus again. 

It's the scientist. He's moved from Clint's left and is walking towards the gem, blocking Clint's line of sight. The pulsating pressure eases a little. Clint blinks and shakes his head. He realizes he's crawled forward about a foot from his previous position. He has no memory of moving. 

He watches the scientist as he struggles towards the gem. Clint knows it is calling to him as well. The gem _remembers_ him. He has touched it before. 

He will touch it again. 

The truth of this future pushes at him. Clint tries to get up, but his hands slip on the dusty floor. He coughs.  The images are rising behind his eyes but he forces them aside.  He doesn't  _want_  to know the future, wants the present, wants the past to stay the past and leave him alone.

He wants to press his hands to his eyes and force it all to go away, but he can't because the man is still  _moving_. He is walking towards the gem and Clint knows bad things, Very Bad Things, will happen if he touches it.

There is a loud crack then, and something catches the man in the chest.  He stumbles, slightly, and another _crack_ hits the man in the leg.  He gives a cry of pain and tries to fall towards the gem, but misses it by inches.  

There is blood on the ground and the man's been shot twice, but apparently he isn't one to quit. He tries to crawl forward, but another  _crack_  echoes through the corridor and the man stops.  A bloom of blood appears on his arm and it falls to the ground.  

Before him, the Data Gem seems to spin a little towards Clint.  It warms at him, blue light shining, before going blurry.  It starts to fade away, blurring more and more around the edges, and on the floor the scientist is calling out.

"Nein!  Nein!"

It wants Clint to touch it before it goes. Clint stares at it, at its white-blue brilliance. He feels, suddenly, that it's quite different from the Tesseract. The Cube was an alien artifact but this - this is _about_ something, something with purpose. Part of Clint wants to know what that purpose is, and part of him wants to reassure the Data Gem that it's okay, that he'll listen to it, that he gets it. 

But there is something else, something that gnaws at him, even as he's stepping towards the gem. There are images streaming across his eyes, each more interesting than the last, but there is something he can't forget.

Phil. Phil told him not to touch it. Phil told him whatever happens, Clint, don't touch it and Clint – Clint pulls back. The hand that was reaching out falls to his side again. Phil told him not to touch it and Clint's not going to touch it. 

The gem is fading still, getting more and more blurry around the edges. It's sad that Clint won't come closer, but it seems to understand as well. That sense of _purpose_ is softer, and Clint wonders if his resistance was what purpose served. 

And then it blurs one more time and is gone. 

Someone is running up to them from the corridor.  Clint struggles to get up. His head feels heavy, his brain full, but he tries to push past it.  He knows that stride. 

When he looks up it is to see Phil running down the hallway towards them.

His gun is out and steady on the scientist. His chest is heaving a little but he looks okay.  Phil looks over and catches Clint's eye, and holds it for a moment as Clint nods, telling his handler that he's fine, no permanent damage done.

With Phil guarding their prisoner, Clint stumbles towards Nat.  She's still shaking, but the sparks have disappeared.  Her eyes are closed though, and her breathing ragged. Clint doesn't like it.  He reaches a hand to his ear and presses the mic back in.  It's fallen out, a little, in the fight and he wants his words to be clear.

"Medical team. We need a medical team to Black Widow's signal."

He gets an answering click, spares a momentary wonder for who's on point now that Phil's apparently in the field, and turns back to his handler.  

Phil still has a gun steady on their prisoner and behind him Ethan is struggling up from the ground.  Phil's voice is calm and even as he says, "Take off the mask, please, Baron von Strucker."

The scientist on the floor chuckles, and Clint feels a flicker of pride that Phil had caught on despite being so far back when the action started.  For a moment Clint thinks the man is going to resist, but then he reaches up, hands coming behind his ear and pulling forward. The rat-eyed HYDRA scientist face peels away to reveal an old but steady man, with a fire of hatred and determination in his eye.  He lets the mask fall to the ground and stares at Phil. 

Phil bears the weight of his glare, shifting his shoulders to compensate.

"Baron Wolfgang von Strucker," Phil says calmly, "you are hereby placed under arrest by authorization of the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division."

From the floor, the Baron laughs.  It starts as a low sound and then builds, in classic 1960 movie villain style, into a wild laugh that shakes the dust particles in the air.  Beside them, Ethan rolls to his feet and comes to stand behind Phil, and still the Baron laughs.

"S.H.I.E.L.D.," he says, still laughing.  "So many years attempting to unravel my secrets, and still you think you can contain me.  Very smooth, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.," he says, staring at Phil.  

"I know you, now.  I will see you again."  

And before Clint can stop him, before Phil can fire, his left thumb reaches towards his middle finger, and Clint can hear the click of a button, and suddenly the Baron vanishes.

There is no flash of light, no tingle of a transporter, no displacement of the air.  He is simply gone.


End file.
